


The One Time That I Dreamt of Thramsay: A Short Story

by Unamusing_Repetition



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AO3 Version, Based on a Dream, Cuddling & Snuggling, I'm Not Ashamed, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, One-Sided Cuddling, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Revised Version, Tame Thramsay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26415223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unamusing_Repetition/pseuds/Unamusing_Repetition
Summary: There are many nights where I have the worst nightmares you could imagine, tragic illusions full of death, decay, and sorrow. Hangings, shootings, revolting creatures, I could go on. Sometimes, my nightmares can almost be as frightening as the waking world can be.And sometimes...mercy is shown to me, and I have dreams sweeter than any existing confection...This is one of those dreams.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton & Reek, Ramsay Bolton & Theon Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton/Reek, Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy/Reek
Kudos: 18





	The One Time That I Dreamt of Thramsay: A Short Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Philosopherscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosopherscribe/gifts), [moshelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moshelle/gifts).



* * *

A steady, solemn voice was all that could be heard throughout the atmosphere. Never quite changing his tone, the self-appointed (and apparent) narrator slowly told what he knew about the Bastard of Bolton. Unofficial, imaginary screenshots appeared one by one as he spoke, quick to appear and disappear, as if the narrator himself were flickering through the pages of a storybook. What he said during these brief moments, I do not exactly recall, though I do know that he was speaking of Ramsay Bolton and what he loved. One line I remember he said referred to how much he loved to hunt girls. One of the still-shots shown was simply Ramsay and Locke side-by-side in the Dreadfort, heavily dressed for winter and surrounded by snow.  
  
But suddenly, all this before me vanished! The scene shifted to a bedroom, and everything was now in complete motion.  
  
The walls of the room were a drab, dull brown, somehow even less vibrant than the rough sands of a hollow desert. They were uneven, in some ways sharp, and the only decoration that one of them held was a singular torch. Against another of the walls, almost sitting in the very center of it, was a rather simple, yet highly extravagant bed. A black, fence-like headboard glimmered in the light of the torch, and a leopard print cover lied unevenly over pastel sheets.  
  
Though it contradicted the truth, and though it remained unsaid, every part of me knew that this was Ramsay Bolton's bed, and his bed-chamber.  
  
And against all odds, he had allowed his fractured, submissive pet to stay there.  
  
Beneath the leopard cover lied his newest creation, the prince that was once known as Theon Greyjoy, the man that was now his obedient, loving Reek. Completely motionless, the flayed servant did not move an inch, though it was very clear that he was rather comfortable in his master's bed. As the torch continued to burn endlessly, Reek remained at rest, soundlessly sleeping in peace.  
  
Soon enough, however, the Bastard of Bolton re-entered my illusion.  
  
The chamber door, painted a color deeper than the night, opened without a creak, and the sadistic lord came into full view, his infamous smile never once leaving his face. Swiftly stepping across the charcoal floor after sealing the entryway, the silent predator gazed at his meek prey. As he approached him, getting closer and closer by the second, the narrator suddenly decided to continue his list, the last line that he would ever speak.  
  
"But most of all," he began, as Ramsay finally reached the bedside, "he especially loved his Reek."  
  
With a firm tug, he rolled a small part of the leopard blanket back, and without even removing his boots, Ramsay climbed into his eccentric resting place. The smile he wore was truly everlasting; somehow, it had become even wider!  
  
Wordlessly, the lord moved himself closer to his beloved companion, pressing firmly against his backside. Yet still, he felt unsatisfied; something still wasn't right.  
  
Ramsay's arms soon found themselves wrapping around his frail creation's chest, drawing him in even closer. At last, he was content with the amount of intimacy.  
  
Reek, consumed in a deep slumber, did not respond to his master's touch, but the bastard didn't seem to mind. He simply continued to hold his pet in a delicate embrace, likely not intending to release him for quite a while.  
  
After a few moments, Ramsay finally allowed his icy orbs to close, his treasured prize ever still in his hold. Becoming as motionless as his Reek, he too seemed to fall into a comfortable sleep, and with this, I awakened.

* * *


End file.
